The Sleaz and the Shy One
by Tenth-Lieutenant
Summary: She's talking. He's mute. She questions religion. He exercises his own faith. She sees destruction. He sees revival. There are no wrong answers to their search. Matsumoto x Hantarou (Collab with Inconsolable Array) HIATUS
1. Ch 1 Semblance of Balance

Author's Note:

AU in half-degree. Meaning: some aspects of canon material maintain, however a broad aspect of character life is changed. I.e those in series without known parents have parents.

Also, religiously speaking the theme of Questioning, Atheism, and Satanism; alongside Norse Mythology make an appearance. Those squeamish of religion being mixed in with canonical material have been warned. This is a work in progress and a daunting one. Of all the pairings I've shipped, Matsumoto x Hanatarou is by far the most challenging. In addition, setting is not thoroughly defined yet...still working on it.

General disclaimer: I don't own property of Bleach, all respective rights to Tite Kubo.

Language, OOC (potentially), and adult/mature content.

* * *

 **Ch. 01 - Semblance of Balance**

 ** _8:45pm "Somewhere in a bar"_**

The ice in her scotch clinks slightly, condensation running down the glass, adding a small ring on the coaster. She swirls the glass once more, entrapped in her thoughts; fixating her blue orbs on the dripping water droplets.

" _Isn't there something you can do to save him?!" She shouted._

" _Matsumoto-fukutaichou, there's nothing we can do."_

" _Liar!" She screamed, her voice shaking with far more emotion to properly convey the depth of her mixed emotions; her fists shaking at her sides as tears spilled down her cheeks. "Liar!"_

She swallows down the scotch, the thrum of the music and chatter nothing but a dull droning against her eardrums, the familiar burn of alcohol warming through her chest. Her nails clink on the glass mindlessly, as an old familiar ache yawns open-shattering the recurrent comfort of masking pain with intoxication.

" _Ichimaru was a traitor, and deserved to die—"_

" _He died trying to protect me! Trying to protect all of us! He—"_

" _I will not hear such blasphemy!"_

"— _died trying to kill Aizen!"_

" _Take her to a holding cell!"_

She lays her heaving head down on her weakening arms, groaning as she fights down the infectious memories. Her unwinding nerves bring out a shamed laughter, her self-loathing laughing at her own drunken memories.

"Fuck, I need to get laid." She murmurs to herself, snorting at her own reconciling attempt. She lifts her head, throwing back the rest of her drink, and slowly rises from her savored seat at the bar. "Now let's find a victim."

She steadies her weight against the bar counter, her legs wobbling more than she anticipated that they would after a few drinks.

"On second thought," she slurs to her feet, "better not do that."

She slid her feet against the flooring, hoping to steady her spiraling head. Her slender fingers slipped through long strands of strawberries kissed by the summer sun, grasping her scalp. She watched her feet tip and sway her body towards the nearest exit, dragging her scarf around her throat.

 _He was so much more than a traitor,_ her head whispered across the echoing music. She groaned to herself, pushing the thought anywhere but the forefront of her mind. Her balance faults to the left, her hand shooting to the nearest object to support her weight. A hand grasps at her elbow, holding her balance steady.

"My apologies," she sighs. "I've underestimated my limits."

"C'mon Rangiku, let's get you home."

Rangiku Matsumoto looks at the smaller woman next to her, fascinated by her grasp on her arm.

"Rukia, I don't want to." She says quietly. She wanted to scream it at the petite girl, and cursed herself for how pathetic her voice came across.

"Matsumoto-san, I have orders to take you back home." Rukia Kuchiki snaps defensively. "Whether you wish to or not, I have to bring you home _now_."

"Fine." Rangiku sighs, reluctantly allowing herself to be pulled along.

 ** _11:30pm "Home_ "**

She pulls shut her curtains, ashes falling off her burning cigarette. She scatters the dead embers with her foot.

"Why can't I just pass out after drinking so much?" She muses to herself, padding softly over to her bed. "I don't want to think anymore."

Despite her efforts to avoid thinking, her mind traces sullenly over the brief conversation with Rukia; the she-devil dragging her back to prison.

" _Why are you doing this to yourself again?"_

" _What? Drinking?" She scoffed, holding herself. "Since when did I not?"_

" _Matsumoto-san, I know things have changed since then, but you've seemed to have lost yourself."_

" _More like find myself." She huffed to her captor. The tiny woman's hand gripped her elbow harder._

" _How so?"_

 _Rukia sounded sincere, but Rangiku knew better._ Trust no one.

" _I am my own God." She stated bluntly. "That's all you need to know."_

"Ah," she chuckles to herself, curling on her cot. "I am my own savior, my own semblance of balance."


	2. Ch 2 Memory of Beelzebub

**Ch 02 - Memory of Beelzebub**

 ** _11:30am "Town graveyard"_**

Sweat glides down the side of his neck, sticking to the dust caked against his flesh. Hanatarou Yamada tilts his head back, letting a long sigh spill past his parted lips, dark strands falling off his shoulders. A breeze dances its way through the field, caressing his heated flesh with its cooled breath. Heat boils the pail of water, the sour fume of bleach flicking against his sense of smell through the medical mask.

 _Of all the things to heal,_ his mind snorts, _a dirty wall is not what I had in mind._

"How's the wall coming along?" a quip call trails from the distance, the chill of a brewing storm sieving through. He dips his wired brush into the pail, focusing on polishing away the last charred remnant.

 _Why would someone attempt to burn down a memorial?_

Water sloshes against the inner walls as he rinses his brush.

"Yamada!"

His throat puckers at the thought of speaking, a quick electric shock moving through his cheek muscles, salt burning into the cracks of his lips. The rough tissue leading from the corner of his lips to the bone of his jaw feels delicate beneath the medical mask. His heart skips through the moments of silence, darkening at the fragment of memory.

" _Well if you won't talk, I'll give you a reason not to!"_

His knuckles scrape against the eggshell toned framework, dragging the bristled brush across the wood furiously. His arms pump the steady mix of emotions into the force of his movement, a quiet rumble of thunder distorting its call across the sky. Dark clouds tumbled across the horizon, the air dampening.

He levels his eyes with the questioner, boring deep into the emerald grasslands. She gives a stiff nod, her silver strands waving across her cheeks as she smiles softly.

"You have a visitor," Isane Kotetsu calls.

He shields his clouded gray orbs from the blistering of the sun, watching the lightening creep through the billows of ash toned clouds, the daylight slinking into hiding. His heart heavies at the memory of his former captain, a sour taste of bitterness lathering his tongue at the shadow falling into his view.

"Yamada," thin lips chortle across the breeze, "It's been a while."

He lowers his hand, tucking his fist out of sight. He nods once, slowly kneeling back to his work. He glances to Isane, affirming to seek out the visitor after his work is done.

 _And of all the monsters to see,_ his mind seethes, _Zaraki just had to show his face…_

The gravel crunches under the giant's footsteps, grinding against Hanatarou's eardrums, trailing by with the murderer. His heart splinters with the thunder's cry, the wall bathed to beauty just as the first drops began to kiss the earth. A pool of air spills past his lips as he stands upright, lifting the pail to his side, hissing to looming presence beneath the shield of his mask.

"What?" Kenpachi Zaraki inquires, a crooked muse disfiguring half his lips, "Cat got your tongue, boy?"

His heart kicks his teeth far into his brain, a bite of heat snaking beneath his skin, coiling against his gums. Hanatarou shifts his eyes from the dead depths of hell, his dark hair obscuring the furrow of his brows. The sour coating creeps into his throat, thickening the walls of his esophagus, sealing his voice into the tissue. His nails dig into his palms, quiet, chilled drops ticking against his shoulders.

 _Did he ever feel remorse for slaying her?_ his mind taunts him to beckon.

"You missed a spot." The devilish commander points past him.

Hanatarou's ears twitch to the sound of retching behind him. His teeth gnash slightly.

"For fuck's sake…" The culprit groans. "Zaraki-taichou leave the boy alone."

 _Boy?_ his mind scoffs, _Guess to everyone, I'll always be a pipsqueak._

" _Foolish brat!" she howled. Her fist was mightier than the anger scorching her tongue. The dull ache moved into his stomach, the taste of pennies growing._

Yamada seals his eyes to the murderer before him. Curiosity beckons him to turn to see the one making a mess, but he forces it down, straightening his shoulders.

"Says the inebriated whore." Zaraki cackles.

"Inebriated? Yes." She groans, spite weaving through her words. "But a whore? I would say you are more of one than me."

"Oh? Seems you're coherent, Matsu." he smirks, casting his gaze aside, "What'd ya say Yamada? Is she coherent?"

His heart threatens to beat from his rib cage, his eyes boring into the black holes. He swallows his tongue, pushing his weight into the earth as he saunters past the demon. The rain matches each of his steps, quiet and careful as the words that await to be said.

 _Just go see who this visitor is,_ his mind soothes gently.

"Aren't you gonna clean that shit up?" the living Oni barks at his back.

The ground grows quiet, the simple hum of thunder filling the void momentarily.

"I can take care of myself." Rangiku grunts, resting a clammy hand on her stomach, squinting her eyes. "Call me 'Matsu' one more time and I swear to the gods…"

 _Gods?_ his head laughs.

Kenpachi lets out a throaty cackle, his head tilting to the heavens.

"Your Gods couldn't care for you!" he heckles, a somber expression gliding across his face, "Nor anyone but themselves…"

Hanatarou's heel turns, pivoting his ear to the conversation.

"I have no gods. I use the term ironically, but a simpleton like you wouldn't understand." Rangiku huffs, apologizing to the plaque her bile covers.

Lightning dances in spirals across the realm, hurling itself into the earth.

Hanatarou shakes his head solemnly, taking one full stride towards departure.

"Where do ya' think you're headed to?" Kenpachi tosses at his back, stuffing his large hands into the pockets of his suit pants.

"A visitor," Isane retorts in place, glancing between the trio uneasily. "It's urgent," she tells Hanatarou. "And I'm sure Mastumoto-san will clean up after herself. She seems...different lately."

 _How so?_ His mind quips. _How is she no more different than I?_

Isane reads his gaze quietly. His eyes linger in her depths for a moment longer, tugging away with the rest of his existence. Tears pinch at his cheeks as he glances to the heavens, wondering if "the gods" would favor his soul.

"Well," Isane says thoughtfully. "She seems to be thinking hard on things."

He nods, letting his eyes flicker over his surroundings. Isane senses his lack of wanting to converse and gives his shoulder a s queeze.

"Here we are." She sighs softly.

The maintenance shed glowers at his approach, a painful familiar grin slithering to greet him. His stomach digs into his intestines, gnawing away at his demeanor. He takes a breath, and lifts one heavied footstep after another.

"Came to see me off?" His tongue cascades the nervous taste off his lips, his throat suffocating as a sweet scent of sugar encircles him.

"Actually," his visitor states, her large autumn eyes twinkling just as sly as her smile, "No. I came to offer you a ride home."

Hanatarou places his pail next to his feet, fumbling in his jean pockets for the keys, his fingers shaking.

"Wouldn't your Father catch us?" he asks the door knob, bitterly pursuing the lock. The cold metal bites at his flesh, jumping from his hand to the muddy path.

"Not if we leave now," she swooned.

Kneeling down, he scoops the keys into his palm, contemplating the consequences. Taking a deep breath, he stands aright, conquering the lock.

"Are we going to discuss what you did?" he grumbles as he flicks the lights on, the sweet scent of earth and rain wafting through the rafters. He focuses on rinsing his utilities, his heart eating itself from the fear.

"Yes."

The quiet shame in her voice freezes his movements.

"And?" he provokes.

"I should have never…" her small voice of wind chimes trembles, her long magenta curls sweeping across her shoulders as the droop.

Her eyes shift across his face, wildly searching for something to latch onto. His heart slowly crawls to a calmer pace, peering behind the cerise rims, recognizing the young woman he once knew.

" _Well if you won't talk, I'll give you a reason not to!"_

 _Her nails sunk into his cheeks, her weight tipping further into his shoulders, her knees digging in. The blade glistened against the backdrop of her animalistic rage, gleaming with a vengeance parallel to her Father's._

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

"Yachiru," he sighs. "It's been four years…" _And that's all you can come up with?_

"But you're still with me," she chokes out.

He looks at his feet for a moment.

"Yeah," he mumbles, his heart remembering that it ran a long time ago, or hid itself back in Cupid's bow. "By Hades' grace," he smiles grimly, wiping his hands off on his jeans. He lifts his eyes to meet hers, contemplating his next move. "I guess it's a date," he muses, a timid ache reaching out.

"So it is."


	3. Ch3 If You Have Ghosts Pt1

**Ch 03 - If You Have Ghosts Pt. 1**

 **9:30pm _The outskirts of Town_**

Her finger taps lightly on her kneecap to the sound of "Ghuleh/Zombie Queen" from her cherished band Ghost.

" _From the darkness Rise a succubus And usurp the throne/ The moon is full and shines An evil blinding light Under a monolith, her likeness Marble white_." she mouths silently, her head beginning to nod.

The bus bumps along its route. She lets her eyes scan over each individual, thinking to herself about how sickening the human race is; chuckling at the notion they were all fools. But not she, no she knew better than that. She readjusts the strap of her shoulder backpack.

 _Every one of these people just scurry about their lives, indifferent to those that are_ awake _and those who_ slumber _with their intelligence. It baffles me. How can they be like this?_ She thinks morbidly.

She steps off at her stop, stuffing her hands further into her pockets. The medallion on her neck swings as she shuffles lightly down the pavement. The wind kicks up slightly, threatening to pull her hood down. She thumbs the volume of her music up higher as the necessity of weaving through the crowd-careful and quick to never brush another-becomes unbearable.

" _Up from the stinking dirt She rises ghastly pale Shapeshifting soon...But now she's rigid, stiff and stale_ / _Zombie Queen Zombie Queen Black light guides you! Ghuleh… Ghuleh…_ "

 _Every. Single. Person,_ her mind huffs in detest, _Imbeciles._

She pushes open a door, the bouncer nodding as she passes. She saunters through a smaller crowd, her hands tightening into fists. The banter and music drowned out by her own music and thoughts. She finds a booth closest to the back, and furthest from the crowd, sliding into it. She reluctantly pauses her music and removes her earbuds. The monotonous sound of "club" music and noise shrills in her ears.

"Evening, Miss." her waiter greets promptly, distinctively yelling over the noise. "My name is Trey, I'll be your waiter for tonight. May I start you off with a drink?"

His pretty boy face cracks a smile. She waves him closer, motioning for him to lean down.

"A shot of your best cinnamon whiskey will do." She says politely. "And leave the bottle."

"Right away." Trey nods and leaves.

She huffs a sigh and scans the inhabitants she's forced to look upon. She removes her hood, folding her hands under her chin.

"Rangiku," Her eyes shift to the bald man approaching. "Glad you made it."

"Take a seat, baldy." She smirks.

Her guest makes a face as he slides in the booth across from her.

"Madarame," she corrects herself. "It's been some time."

"Yeah," Ikkaku Madarame sighs, raising his thin eyebrows. "Zaraki-taichou has kept me busy. But, glad we can _finally_ discuss that book."

"I know; I've been giving it a lot of thought." She murmurs as she digs in her backpack.

Trey returns and places the drink in front of her, setting the bottle of whiskey down.

"Here you are." He says. "Would you like a drink sir?"

"No, I'm fine." Ikkaku nods, shifting slightly.

"Okay, then." He turns to Rangiku. "And you Miss, would you like to order something to eat?"

"No thanks." She smiles, trying to hide her distaste for the man from her eyes. "But thank you Trey."

He nods and saunters off.

"The poor fool." She sighs, lifting the shot glass. "Now, the book."

"Right," Ikkaku grins proudly. He lays his copy of _The Satanic Bible_ on the tabletop, flipping it open to a dog-eared page. "How much have you read?"

"Not much honestly, I skimmed it a bit and highlighted what I liked." She says as she pulls her copy out. "Like, how on page 25, 'The strongest instinct in every living thing is self-preservation, which brings us to the last of the seven deadly sins - anger.' it brings that out."

"Because that is something you feel often?" Ikkaku asks, his eyes glinting against the neon lights.

"Well, yes." She admits quietly. "Ever since Gin ceased to be living I've felt it more often. I detest the human kind in it's hypocritical glorification; how the self-centeredness brings anguish to those it is not intended to. I mean from what I understand, Laveyan concepts say to be treating our fellow creature as we wish to be treated in return, yet those same people place a deity at their center and use it as an excuse to cause another anguish or guilt!"

"Furthermore," She says as anger begins to inflect her tone harsher. "I've questioned more of anything, the belief of religion in all forms and finding that due to what we were taught it is hard to debunk those "beliefs" if you will. I want to be free from guilt and shame of my life, I want to be able to find an alignment with my path! And it sickens me that anger, anger that is considered a sin, should not be greeted in a…" she struggles. "A, a..a white-light religion. Whereas as a Satanist by Lavey's concepts, anger shouldn't be shunned."

"Exactly. Self-preservation is necessary for human progress." Ikkaku grins.

"I know. But it's the fact people blindly accept a deity as a 'ruler' of the world, while not realizing that there may just be-" she falls quiet, taking another shot; her face scrunching as she sorts out her thoughts.

"Maybe there is no God or Satan, or any God's or Goddesses, and maybe it _is_ just the fantasies of humans who cannot phantom never knowing answers to life's biggest questions. Maybe it is just simply the man's carnal needs at work."

"Read for yourself. I told you LaVey gives a rational debate."

"I think I'm finally understanding why Satan is used as a symbol though. Yes, as a mockery to right-hand religions, but mostly as a notion that imagery is needed for man to explain himself eloquently. I mean think about it. Art for example? DaVinci, Michelangelo, Picasso, Van Gough, hell even Mozart and Beethoven! We ask what does it mean? What were they thinking when they composed it?"

Ikkaku nods softly, watching how a fiery life flew back into her eyes. The last he remembered her as such was before Gin's death. Even still after, her eyes were only falsely determined, more brooding in color, and resentful to most. She was changed forever.

"...people just sicken me!" she sighs. She sets another shot back, and frowns. "What?"

"I haven't seen such life in you in quite some time." he says honestly.

"Ikkaku...That was a long time ago..." she says quietly.

"Not to despair, Matsu, I'm quite fine. I'm just glad we settled things. Keep in mind you came to _me_ about the Left-hand path."

"I know but spare me those looks." She grins, the alcohol and company taking away her edge. "Now, explain to me my basics again so I may study."

"Study, yes. But, keep in mind there are more than one Left-hand religions. If LaveYan Satanism is what suits you, then so be it."


	4. Ch3 If You Have Ghosts Pt2

**Ch 03 - If You Have Ghosts Pt2**

 ** _10:30am_ _"Home"_**

"Goddammit!" She groans, crumpling the paper in her hands. Ikkaku's words still echo in her head.

" _What'd you mean?"_

" _There are_ other _forms, Matsu." Ikkaku sighs, looking at her with a mixture of concern and awe. "Please tell me you knew that?"_

" _I-theistic, which is LaveYan and known as symbolic Satanism; and theistic, which is the belief in Satan-not to be confused with the Christian rendering. Theistic Satanism has a 'reverse' rendering of the image Christianity depicts." She further explains. "Then there are of course, many other variations."_

" _Then what is confusing you?" He pleads._

" _On one hand I see the views of LaVey, and yet on the other I see the views of Theistic Satanists. My struggle is really seeing which view is_ me _."_

" _But you seemed so sure just earlier." He argues._

" _Is it not finding out for myself that is important?"_

" _Always, Rangiku, always."_

She looks at the clock, heaving a sigh as she packs her bag again. She thinks how to explain the messy concepts to Him when she arrives.

 ** _1_ _1:00am "Some building downtown, second floor"_**

"You look like you're about to collapse," jade eyes flicker to her face. "Matsumoto."

"With all due respect Taichou, I feel like doing so."

"Have a seat." He motions to the couch lining his office. "After all, this is my job."

"I'd never thought _adult_ you would get into psychology." She sits down on the beige couch, crossing her legs. He makes a face and disregards her comment. "And we're gonna have an interesting talk."

"Oh?" He says, sipping his cup of coffee. "Why is that?"

"Religion." She starts. "Something I detest talking openly about."

He raises his eyebrows, and gives a slight nod. She collects her thoughts carefully.

"I get why I serve the Soul Society. But, given my life in the Earthly realm, I am confused. My parents were Christian, and after years of living with them, their doctrines have molded and distorted what I feel is _me as a self_."

She pauses thoughtfully.

"Because I feel guilt and shame for even questioning. Yet, often times I catch myself stating that I have total control over my life-path. That, I have no God or Master."

"And yet you're still wondering which is 'Truth?'"

"Yes and no. Yes, because it's normal to question, and no because I'm okay with not understanding the World as it is."

"Is it fear holding yourself back?"

"Potentially. Mostly from family and friends. I don't know Taichou. I feel like I opened up a book I wasn't prepared for."

"Which is okay. I was thinking maybe writing out your own belief system, values, and morals; your life as you see it may help. Then consider if it was due to religious practice or your own thought."

"I suppose it won't hurt." She nods. "Either way, I'll think more on it later. There's other matters to be discussed."

"Yes, about Madarame-san." He reminds her.

She rolls her eyes and huffs. "Oh gods."

"Last session we spoke of how amends have been made. Have you spoken to him recently, since then?"

"Well, yeah." She shifts a bit. "Just yesterday."

"About the book?"

"Mhmm." She nods and stares at her lap, her ears turning red. The room falls quiet as she fiddles with her fingers. "I'm keeping distance, at least as best as I can."

She fidgets with her Ghost medallion, sifting through her thoughts carefully.

"I feel as if I'm spiraling out again. My life seems empty somehow. I can't stop drinking, despite finding new things to learn about myself." She rubs her arms softly. "What gets me is...with Ikkaku, I still like him but I feel too lost in my own life to even care for another. It seems too daunting."

"Many things seem daunting, Matsumoto." He says sympathetically. "But don't let that stop you from finding out your own path."

"So," She glances up. "What should I do? I want to move on from everything. Ikkaku, Gin...Gin especially; but I don't know where to start with mending _myself_."

"Focus on yourself. Whichever is easier to start with for you."

She frowns. "You always leave me hanging like this, Taichou."

"I may be your therapist Matsumoto, but I am also your Captain, and elsewards go without saying."

She nods. "Sometimes I hate seeing you."

"Why?"

"You're blatant in every step that I need you to be, yet you also invade in areas I don't _want_ you to do so; but I allow you such a comfort in order to explain myself as someone _other than_ your _fukutaichou_."

"But why do you hate seeing me directly?"

"It is not _you_ , it is _your approach_." She sighs. "What I mean is, I hate how you challenge me but recognize I need it in order to grow and properly change. Implementing ideas or thoughts you may suggest, as well as course of action, in addition to figuring it out for myself. Is that not therapy?"

"If that is your definition, then yes."

"It is." She states bitterly. "And frankly it annoys me, but I respect it. I respect 'why' enough in order to see it's benefits."

He gives a faint smirk, jotting a note down.

"Now, tell me, what are your plans until our next session?"

She sighs, relaxing her shoulders.

"Well," she drawls, regaining her focus. "See what my beliefs are, that's easier than grappling Living-Matters, and Dead-Matters…Dead-Matters can wait."

"Very well." He watches her pack her things. "Oh, and Rangiku?"

"Yes?" She brushes her pants off.

"What about my approach unsettles you?"

"Nothing." She tilts her eyes down. "It's realizing I'm allowing myself to openly discuss things with you. I feel vulnerable sometimes, and yet despite that I'm starting to recognize it as a healthy thing."

"As long as the relationship here doesn't become misconstrued."

"With all due respect," She laughs. "I'm aware of Transference. It happens but I'm not anguished by it. I always know it happens, due to the constant support and reaffirmation. I'm not that dull in psychology."

"Smart lady. Now how about four o'clock in two weeks?"

"Sounds good."

"Great, see you then!"

She saunters out the office, her backpack slung on a shoulder. She hits the elevator button and steps on.

 _Strange the whole concept. I mean that means every relationship whether platonic or sexual or in-between delves in transference of some sort._

She knits her eyebrows pondering the line of thought further.

"More importantly," she muses to herself, lifting her eyes to the sky as she exits the building. "Who is my God?"

She shifts uncomfortably under the grey skies.

* * *

A/N: Ch 4 May come along slower than what I'd like, but patience is a virtue


End file.
